Post by Joey Flash on Jan 25, 2017 18:15:41 GMT -5
Dear Steven Singh,
I just got your letters and fucking hell you’re a whiny prick aren’t you? You’re a fucking shitcunt mate and have a stupid haircut. Don’t ever write to me in your limp wristed bland prose again. Just because I can't fucking go anywhere doesn't mean you should take advantage of my limited architecture. Also kill yourself.
Love Fourth Wall.
I just got your letters and fucking hell you’re a whiny prick aren’t you? You’re a fucking shitcunt mate and have a stupid haircut. Don’t ever write to me in your limp wristed bland prose again. Just because I can't fucking go anywhere doesn't mean you should take advantage of my limited architecture. Also kill yourself.
Love Fourth Wall.
Writing the next great American novel has been a lifelong dream of many young creative dreamers; ‘I want to be the next Steinbeck!’. They tell themselves that their talent far outweighs that of any author popular across the culture at the time. Dan Brown was a talentless hack who can barely write dialogue and his characters are so lifeless and limp they resemble Stephen Singh’s appendage on a good day and don’t them started on JK fucking Rowling. As they fill the shelf or pour the coffee the tell themselves ‘I’m the greatest who ever put pen to paper...or words to screen, whatever’ and that they would be successful if only they could be motivated.
Jeff Perkins had thought the same thing, he had struggled out of college hopping from blog to blog in a desperate attempt at self indulgent wankery. It’s fine, no one would ever understand the level of linguistic aptitude he possessed. He was a wordsmith so grandiose he likened himself often to ‘Sheets and Kelly’ - no one ever understood him...until them. Now, a year on from meeting Jared Holmes for the first time, he sat at his first ever book signing.
He, Brofessor Coach, was published.
Joey: What’s up motherfucker?!
Published as a ghostwriter for this illiterate buffoon. In what was most certainly an attempt at a quick cash grab from Joseph, he had pitched an idea to write an instructional guide on the ins and outs of the qualities and attributes it took to ‘be World Champion’. When Jeff had brought up the fact that erstwhile legend and Joey-alike Jonny Fly had done the exact same thing only a few years earlier and this was unlikely to earn Joey any new fans nor do much to distance himself from the legacy of Fly he was rebuffed with a simple instruction to ‘shut the fuck up, geek’.
So the pair had sat down once more to thrash out Joey’s idea. It took some linguistic dexterity from The Bro to be able to turn ‘I punched the faggot in the mouth and knocked him the fuck out’ to ‘I was able to see the way Omega was moving, you know? The first dances with an opponent are always the most important for me - three lessons I learn within five seconds of squaring up to a guy: distance, speed and reach. He was so tired by this point that it wouldn’t have mattered what he brought, I could have had a cup of coffee in between his strikes and still countered them. He was a game fighter for sure.’
That said, when Joey got talking about wrestling and Jeff had actually been able to get him to open up...that was all the payment a die hard wrestling fan like Brofessor Coach ever needed for this gig. Joey Flash sat down next to him in preparation for the book signing dressed in a plain black hoodie and pant combo offset by some fresh blue Nike Cortez - his hair held in place by a matching blue headband; Brofessor Coach didn’t need to write the next great American novel. Sat next to the greatest in ring performer the world had ever seen, he was living his own American dream.
‘A Complete Idiot’s Guide to being World Champion’
The stroke of genius idea had struck Joey one night while drunk as fuck. He paid that nerd who helped him promote his return for War to write it for him. This was a pretty easy payday for Joey, he was used to enough of those in the ring so god damn it’s nice to get one outside of it for once. Joey patted Brofessor Coach on the back and gave him a grin before looking over at the doors of the Court Street Barnes & Noble before glancing at his watch. The doors would open in five minutes.
Brofessor: It goes well. Nervous?
Joey: Please. The only time I get nerves are before I have to penetrate my wife, you know - that crippling fear of going pitifully limp as you struggle to slide the tip into the warm fleshy sanctuary? You know? … You don’t know?
Brofessor: I-
Joey burst out in nervous laughter.
Joey: Great joke. See, a joke is something that exaggerates things that happen in real life for comic effect. Do you understand? You understand this at least? You understand that I’m a regular George Carlin.
Brofessor: Is that why Steven Singh is #1 Contender, because his talent in real life has been exaggerated for comic effect?
Joey: Holy shit. They don’t call you Yung Tesla for nothing.
Brofessor: I have never once been called Yung Tesla in my entire life.
Joey: Sure you have. It’s your nickname isn’t it?
It was going to be a long day for Jeff Perkins. Thankfully, it was time - the doors opened and the stampede began. The influx was a torrent of testosterone addicted adults brought up on Elmore Leonard novels, Republican rally’s and Soprano’s seasons; bloodthirsty gen Xers looking for that true crime fix, liberally intermixed with a downpour of teenage girls eager for their book to be defaced by a youthful, unblemished idol of action. His cheeky squiggle lighting a fire within the hearts of a legion of screaming hot topic fangirls; fan fiction writers who imagined Joey as this fallen, tragic hero for a YA generation, one that believed Vampires sparkled and fascist governments could be beaten back with nothing more that a bow and arrow and a dream. The first of the congregation approached. A man strode confidently toward the table and slammed a copy of the book down with purpose, he looked about as fat as Crazy J. Joey nicknamed him BigPig Da Don, this man had a stupid cartoon picture of some blonde muscled faggot on his T-Shirt, he stepped forward with pride.
BigPig Da Don: It’s-
Oh for fuck sake, this guy found it so hard to breathe with those fat jowls that he could barely get a word out before taking another breath. This will be a long one.
BigPig Da Don: Such...a...pleasure…to...meet...you.
If Kevin Bishop promo videos were ever transcribed, this is how Joey felt they would read.
Joey: Hi there.
Oh god, why did he even agree to this shit?
BigPig Da Don: It...is...so...brilliant...to...see...Araki’s...work...brought...to...prominence...by...your...promotion…
What is this whale talking about?
Joey: Excuse me?
BigPig Da Don: The...World...Bite...The...Dust...you...thought...I...was...just...a...fan...but...it...is..I...D-
In one slick movement, Joey got to his feet and slapped the ever loving shit out of this portly Newman looking motherfucker. Take a seat, fat boy. He fell like a sack of shit to the floor completely unconscious. The nerd stampede didn’t care as BigPig Da Don was consumed by the onrushing neckbeard army. The signing continued for all of an hour before Joey’s ADD overwhelmed him. His signature had turned from calligrapher to Dr Michael J Fox.
Signing had stopped, and conversation had started. The questions had been varied and intriguing in their scope.
‘Who is the best wrestler you’ve ever fought?’
‘Do you like Trump?’
‘How big is Batista’s dick?’
However the most asked question by the Joseph worshipping two hundred strong congregation that packed the book store wall to wall was simply: ‘What do you think about facing Steven Singh?’
With three simple words, it summed up everything that Steven Singh ever has been, is, and ever will be.
Joey: He’s a faggot.
Amazon.com reviews of Joseph Malignaggi - A Complete Idiot’s Guide to being World Champion
***** (IntergalacticChri6t) - An absolute masterpiece - if you want to understand the nuances and insights of a true wrestling genius this is a must read. Malignaggi proves to be a true literary genius: the Jack London of our time.
* (OBLIVIONDANAENAEGOD) - TERRIBLE
* (GrimyDarkPrinceEveVegaAceMaverick) - 0-1 Forever.
* (TUBThumper) - Terrible book by a terrible wrestler. It iis a certainty this will find its way into the bargain bin alongside ‘How to Beat Joey Flash’ by Gemini Battle.
Edit: Just finished it. If I would have read ‘A complete Idiot’s Guide to being World Champion’ I might have won at One.
* (NotLilith) - Terrible fed full of racist, homophobic bullying scumbags, current ‘champion’ is the worst of them all. Avoid at all costs.
Edit: Oops, thought I was reviewing the website WCFWrestling.com on the Top 250 Wrestling Federations list, this book was great *****.
***** (OldTomFrost) - Brilliance. I’ll hopefully be seeing you soon champ. Here’s to ya.
* (Fly) - Really Joe?
* (OBLIVIONDANAENAEGOD) - TERRIBLE
* (GrimyDarkPrinceEveVegaAceMaverick) - 0-1 Forever.
* (TUBThumper) - Terrible book by a terrible wrestler. It iis a certainty this will find its way into the bargain bin alongside ‘How to Beat Joey Flash’ by Gemini Battle.
Edit: Just finished it. If I would have read ‘A complete Idiot’s Guide to being World Champion’ I might have won at One.
* (NotLilith) - Terrible fed full of racist, homophobic bullying scumbags, current ‘champion’ is the worst of them all. Avoid at all costs.
Edit: Oops, thought I was reviewing the website WCFWrestling.com on the Top 250 Wrestling Federations list, this book was great *****.
***** (OldTomFrost) - Brilliance. I’ll hopefully be seeing you soon champ. Here’s to ya.
* (Fly) - Really Joe?
Joey: It all starts with the New Year’s Bash match. Well isn’t this just a beautiful surprise, I was almost certain of what was going to happen with this match. I would be hyped and ready to defend my title against any comers, offering an open challenge for anyone who wanted the match to just ask...but I would inevitably end up not defending the title and end up facing Bates in a bodybagging rematch or even worse, a resurrected Gemini Battle. Fuck my life. I am sick of the regurgitating of terrible challengers, nonsensical matches and idiotic main event hopefuls. Let me thank you for this Seth, if you didn’t do it...I was going to do this myself. See, I had already decided the second the card was announced that the winner of the New Years Bash match would get this shot...because guess what? They fucking deserve it.
This isn’t a match someone has gotten through name value or promotion, this is a match that the winner has truly earned, by hook or by...crook. This is a match that whoever conquered their opponents was guaranteed a springboard into the main event scene, I was going ensure it. I’m not in the process of burying talent - I’m in the position where a simple mention of your name in a tweet by my fair hand gets you more over than ten consecutive wins. So a match against me? A World Title match against me? Gravedigger became one of the biggest names in the game after a long absence because of one thing - he faced Joey Flash. So this opportunity? This is the biggest prestige you could ever hope to receive.
Who will the winner be? I sat in front of the screen in my locker room and lived every blow, every close call. Then we got a winner.
Who is the GOAT facing at Rise Up?!?!
Joey Flash vs Steven Singh
It makes me so happy, I think I almost giggled a little when it was announced I would be facing you. Oh, sorry Digz, you were a certain body - I didn’t really regard you as much of a challenge so didn’t factor you into my future planning. Oh well. So I have a completely new challenger, against a completely new wrestler to the federation. What exciting times!
Steven, when I first put pen to paper with the WCF two years ago I stepped through the door the best wrestler in the world. I knew what my level was, and I watched everyone else in the company move as slow as a methed up sloth, deliver punches worse than a sloppy drunk slut at at a blown out frat party. I had the greatest undefeated streak for a rookie, I dominated everyone who dared even mention my name; I called out the main eventers time and time again - men like ICE Beckman, like Bobby Cairo who I knew the second I would step into the ring with them they wouldn’t be able to last ten minutes. I saw first hand the entitled, arrogant, protective scared aura that oozed from every fucking pore and I swore to myself: ‘Be the champion that these people are not, be the champion that this federation deserves’. I swore I would never take on the mindset of over entitled veteran who had to have everything their way and avoid any new challenges for fear of being usurped.
Sadly for you Steven, I keep my promises.
You sit here at 13-1 (13-0). This is the single best record I have seen be compiled entering the federation, you win every match, you dominate and you do it as sneaky and underhanded as possible, anything to drive home your advantage as the best newcomer. You appeared around the same time as Kevin Bishop (The Sandman), he might have been rated higher at first - achieved success more and been pushed higher but you always knew what the situation was. You might have started slower but now you have taken over.
This sounds familiar. I was almost reminiscing for a moment there... at least, it did until I remembered you were a pencil necked, unskilled, unmarketable sack of shit who can’t fight their way out of a wet paper bag.
This is a match that I practically begged for when I was in your position, but didn’t get the opportunity. This shit wasn’t even a thing when I came tearing through the company. I had to wait ten fucking months for my shot, but you? No not you. You don’t have to put the work in, you don’t have to establish a brand and build hype behind your name, here little Steve, here is the silver platter now come and dine. Do I sound bitter? You’re damn fucking right I’m bitter, but it’s funny...because of the way I got denied and ducked when I was in your position I’m going to rain all that fury down on you as the undisputed champion of the World.
This match could have gone two ways. This match could have been a Bates rematch, a Battle rematch, shit, even Andre Holmes or Ethan King could have won the New Years Bash and this match at Rise Up would have been a bland, boring spectacle with me going through the motions and winning in a routine fashion.
The only way it could have gone any differently is if what happened, happened. You won Steve. So take a few minutes to soak it in, you are the number one contender for the World Title…
...then be prepared to be forever banished from the main event scene forever more. There is no glass ceiling in the dub anymore, anyone can beat anyone and anyone can get this shot. Anyone can beat anyone, but not a wrestler in the world can beat me. You are a casualty of your own time. You exist in the era of Joey Flash.
You’re a ‘rookie’ so the perception is I’m not going to step to you and beat you again and again until the last glimmer of hope exits your eyes? Wrong. You picked the wrong time to be a success. You might think it’s one way, but it’s the other way. It’s always the other way.
You earned this shot Steven; So I’m going to give you it, barrel straight to your temple.
This artillery is coming for you so hot not even the Asian dude from Tienanmen square could stand in front of it. I’m not fighting to beat you or to defend my title. I am using you as a statement, so watch closely: this is what happens when you face Joey fucking Flash.
To be delivered to Sanches, David and Holmes, Jared on Monday 30th January 2017.
Part 1/3
David. You are one of the best wrestlers I have ever competed with. You deserve everything you get and more. You know, it makes me feel bad. If I wasn’t here you’d have everything - you and Jared both. So please, beat Frank. Beat him senseless. Climb that the ladder and reclaim what’s yours. You deserve it. You deserve everything you get.
I’m sorry.
I’m sorry for both of you.
Part 1/3
David. You are one of the best wrestlers I have ever competed with. You deserve everything you get and more. You know, it makes me feel bad. If I wasn’t here you’d have everything - you and Jared both. So please, beat Frank. Beat him senseless. Climb that the ladder and reclaim what’s yours. You deserve it. You deserve everything you get.
I’m sorry.
I’m sorry for both of you.
Joey: When I first heard the name ‘Steven Singh’ I thought: that motherfucker should be a cab driver. Then I watched Steven Singh wrestle and I thought...this motherfucker should be a cab driver.
Joey smiles and prepares to roast and bury the main event hopes of poor Mr Singh.
Joey: First thing’s first fuckhead: why in holy shit do you call yourself ‘Steven Singh’? Of all the amazing aliases you could have picked...bro, you could have chosen anything. DEATHMASTER 5000, BigCock McFuckerson da Bitchfucca, Psycho Psycho Dragon Psycho Dragon - all would have been fine, and superior, choices. You, fucking marketing genius, chose ‘Steven Singh’ - with a surname picked from a different culture at complete random with no intent or forethought. That’s like if I mused for hours and hours, deliberating and finally deciding ‘You know what would sound cool?!’
Joseph Xingzaohao
Joey Panface wouldn’t be as good of a nickname though. Sorry, I don’t mean to insult any Asian viewers of this, really I don’t. If there are three things I don’t want as members of my fan club it’s Asians, faggots and fat people.
Joey chuckles at his own intrinsic xenophobic views.
Joey: This is not your place. This is not your stage, you are a mediocre wankstain who fluked a match to get to this point. The main event is an exclusive scene, hit your PA up after I’m done and see what opportunities she can find for a spastic bitch who has just been emasculated on live Television. I’ll fuck you up so badly I’ll have you exit the scene shouting for Erica - Mr Peanutbutter.
That right there is a filler set up to get to a mediocre punchline. Yet somehow still manages to hit harder than your most potent shit. Your punches are so shit they never hit the target - it’s like you’re shadow boxing in this shit. You miss the target - I punch straight fucking through. See, I’m not all bad. I’m not just destroying you, I’m teaching you while I do it.
You are such a weak bitch you’d get a concussion playing fantasy football. You are the antithesis of what it takes to make it in this business. For everything you say, you don’t have the work ethic, you don’t have the drive, you don’t have the passion. I know. I’ve fought the best of the best year after year and I’ve come out on top. What I see from you is a man who has been vaulted to a world he isn’t ready for. You’ve used the flute and warped yourself straight to World 8 and now you’re going to get completely fucking mauled. You aren’t ready. You haven’t built up the experience or the know how of how this shit works at the highest level because guess what...you’ve never even come close to fighting at the highest level. You think what? Fighting Jason O’Neal is a good warm up for this? That some shitty one night tournament is enough to get you prepared for this? There are a handful of top tier names in this federation and you’ve not stepped foot in the ring with any of them.
Where on your record is the Jared Holmes? The Wade Moor? The Johnny Rabid? You had the chance to fight David fucking Sanchez and what did you do? You completely chickened out and shat the bed in order to get a pyrrhic victory over me? What did that prove? It proved quite simply this: you are a bum with an attitude who is too much of a coward to even so much as test himself against good competition. Now you’re stepping to the man who rules above all and you think you can bridge that eternal gap with a simple hop skip and a jump? Oh Steven. You gon’ learn today.
You wasted your chance at trying to claim the scalp of David Sanchez because you wanted to what...prove I’m a part timer? Ever heard a thing called ‘brand protection and promotion’ no...I guess you haven’t. Well you see Steve when you get to the pinnacle of the professional- ah fuck it you know what. I’ll give you a copy of ‘A Complete Idiot’s Guide to being World Champion’ it’s all in there.
A buzz rattled Jeff Perkins’ pocket, he fished for his phone and touched it awake to the notification header.
BREAKING NEWS!! A message from Indian president: Pranab Mukherjee
15 August 1947, the date my blessed country gained freedom from British Rule. A day when the tide of draconian injustice and white bigotry was overturned by a unyielding desire to be free, to be considered as rulers of our own destiny. Now, over sixty years later, a man by the name of "Singh", has taken it upon himself to help unravel that heritage, to undo the good work of all those that made the ultimate sacrifice for your independence. "Thievin'" Singh is a blasphemy and a disgrace to the name he has robbed from us. He is a blight upon our struggle and a curse against our pride.
15 August 1947 was the day we rose up as one and took back what was ours. Sunday the 29th January 2017, through our collective prayers to Joseph Flash, will be the date we will do it again.
15 August 1947, the date my blessed country gained freedom from British Rule. A day when the tide of draconian injustice and white bigotry was overturned by a unyielding desire to be free, to be considered as rulers of our own destiny. Now, over sixty years later, a man by the name of "Singh", has taken it upon himself to help unravel that heritage, to undo the good work of all those that made the ultimate sacrifice for your independence. "Thievin'" Singh is a blasphemy and a disgrace to the name he has robbed from us. He is a blight upon our struggle and a curse against our pride.
15 August 1947 was the day we rose up as one and took back what was ours. Sunday the 29th January 2017, through our collective prayers to Joseph Flash, will be the date we will do it again.
Throughout, Flash continued to mesmerise the onlooking audience by verbally sodomising the poor son of a bitch Mr Singh.
Joey: Let’s get to chopping this fable, this seems to be a sticking point among the IWC faggots as well as with you. Let me ask you a question:
Joey Flash/Jared Holmes vs Crazy J/Salem Shepard - say this match is booked, is this a good look for me or is this a bad look? Is this a good look for the others involved or is this a bad look? The juggalos get a chance to beat me, so they’re fired up; Jared and I know we are going to win so we go light and still mop the floor with them. Who are you promoting here? Who are you building? I’m not in the Joey Flash business, don’t get me wrong I used to be, but not anymore - I’m in the WCF business. I’m only doing what’s best for business.
What would the investors rather see? Their top guy half ass a win over people that are being built to make money for the future? Or would they rather market both the top guy and the next generation by saving the top guy as a mountain to truly climb and conquer? Keep up Steve. I thought you were the super genius full scholarship man? It surely couldn’t have been for business, you have the money making acumen of a fucking slug. However, since we are on the subject of ‘part timers’. Let’s talk about you a little.
11/13/2016 - Internet Title Match Captain Pantheon vs Teddy Blaze Special Guest Referee: Steven Singh.
No match that week Singh and yet you feel the need to complain about Joey refereeing? Bit hypocritical, don't you think?
11/20/2016 Tag Team Titles Match Oblivion/Lilith vs Steven Singh/Captain Pantheon
LOSS!
11/27/2016 - Steven Singh not booked
12/04/2016 - Steven Singh not booked, guess that loss really took its toll huh?
Joey: What happened Steve? Well isn’t this a bitch, oh wait...you WERE a business major and you were just protecting your brand as midcard filler right?! All that public attention and all those extra curricular outside the ring activities really took their toll huh big guy? Two months into the job and you’re taking whole MONTHS off? This isn’t someone with the heart of a champion, this is someone who sees this as a flight of fancy. How about when I’m done with you, you just fuck off and try your hand at minor league baseball or something - they could do with more whiny pretentious cunts in the Yankees farm system. You don’t have the heart, nuts, guts or brain capacity to hang here at the top tier, fuck the World Title you need to establish yourself as a top quality consistent unflappable reliable operator before you even so much as sniff my cologne.
Well ‘Thievin Steven’ let’s go back a little bit. Let’s ask another question. How big was this match three weeks ago? Not worth shit, layup for Joey Flash - that’s the public perception. Now, three weeks later and the odds are drawing closer, the fans are starting to wonder more. I don’t need to main event Slam, everyone knows my worth, I don’t even need to appear. However to have you there, right there at the top of the card two weeks in a row, it’s amazing isn’t it? The exposure you’ve gotten, the hype you’re starting to get. It’s delectable.
This is business, this is the difference between being a peon with the
I’m giving you a rub, by simply stepping aside, that’s the power I have. I can do more by doing nothing than you can by jumping off a steel cage five nights a week. That’s who I am , Steve. That’s why I’m world champion, and you’re the coat minder for Captain whatever-the-fuck, the true workhorse who gets the pins in your tag matches and sacrifices his dreams, so that a snot nosed rookie like you can have his idiotic delusions of grandeur...crushed at my feet.
Part 2 / 3
You don’t know yet. You wouldn’t be able to understand quite what I’m telling you here. The crown is heavy, it’s heavier than you could possibly imagine. You have no idea how proud I am of you both.
I understand what you’re both trying to do. I understand, and I appreciate. I was that person once, do you know that I helped start Imperium just to bring down ICE and Cairo? Silly me. Of course you do. I understand, you want to do the same thing here. I understand but make no mistake...I do not abide.
Now you dare bring one of them back into my midst.
Jared. Let me ask you. Be candid, let’s discuss this likefriends men.
How would you like The World to end?
You don’t know yet. You wouldn’t be able to understand quite what I’m telling you here. The crown is heavy, it’s heavier than you could possibly imagine. You have no idea how proud I am of you both.
I understand what you’re both trying to do. I understand, and I appreciate. I was that person once, do you know that I helped start Imperium just to bring down ICE and Cairo? Silly me. Of course you do. I understand, you want to do the same thing here. I understand but make no mistake...I do not abide.
Now you dare bring one of them back into my midst.
Jared. Let me ask you. Be candid, let’s discuss this like
How would you like The World to end?
The crowd of amazed spectators applaud wildly at the dismantling of the dismal desperate dilapidated delicate drudge dat dis Deven Dings deadly dick devouring dhoot. Doey deans dover do Dofessor Doach.
Joey: Bro, what do they call that annoying shit he does all the time with his stupid ass nicknames?
Brofessor: Ask Jared. He has more nicknames than people I’ve slept with.
Joey: So like, three. No, not the nicknames, the stupid thing where he uses the same letter. This bastard calls himself shit like ‘The Dick Dastardly of Delivering Devastating DDT’s’ and shit it makes me want to punch myself in the dick.
Brofessor: Alliteration?
Joey: Shut up, no one asked you.
Brofessor: You just asked-
Joey: Fuck that. Everyone needs a nickname, we all have one. Part of the business. Tell me, Steve, what made "The Superstar" stand out for you? Was it because it was the most overused, boring, dullest name you could find? Or just that you like to lie in everything that you do and thought you might as well have a big fib about your status in the business as your monicker? Odd.
If you're going to be generic at least do it right for fucks sake! I mean shit, you fellate Adam Young enough you should have this down to a fucking science. Despite the fact that until you fell into the trap of ‘ironically support a piece of shit it is funny and no one has ever done it before’ realm you thought he was quite simply just a piece of shit. So here goes Singh trying to piggyback off yet another legend, future Hall of Famer Yung Adam. 1 Sick Bastard!!!!!!!! See, I can do it too! Fuck my life. You are a walking cliche you absolute mark.
You ever hear the expression, Singh for your supper? Steve, you're about to be a very hungry man.
Where do all the ladyboys ply their trade?
Singhapore.
Where does Joey Flash imprison his jobber victims?
Singh Singh
You only 'Singh' when you're winning. Well, you're going to be a mute for the rest of your life when I'm done
You know what irony is? Your name is Singh, and yet I'm the Indian giver. I'm the one stealing your hope. Your ambition. Your future. Singhing in the rain. What a glorious feeling I'm champion again.
Fuck sake Steve. I’m surprised the Indian President hasn’t got in contact disavowing any relationship with you at this point.
Brofessor: Actually Joe-
Joey: Oh I get it! You’re gonna say ‘DUH OF COURSE NOT I HAVE A PAKISTANI STEPFATHER WHO I WILL REVEAL IN A STUPID ORIGIN STORY NO ONE CARES ABOUT!’ for fucks sake. Wait, why am I even talking about this-
Brofessor: Probably the ADD Joe.
Joey: I said I’d come back to something.Your first loss in the WCF was to...
Joey: and fucking LILITH. I don’t even. I can’t even. Like literally, that nine year old Kenny Omega wrestled would beat the fuck out of her. The blow up doll he wrestled would beat the fuck out of her. Yet you, #1 Contender - couldn’t. I don’t even. I can’t even. One of them is bad enough, but both Oblivion AND Lilith. That’s not nightmare fuel, that’s suicide fuel - how are you not dead by now? How have you not had the professional pride enough to just end your existence? Hypocrite test #2 - This faggot mentions Grime or Adam Young. This is worse. This is much...much worse.
Now. Let’s set some ground rules heading into this match. It will bode well for your survival beyond the thrashing you take here. Take notes or whatever you Sri Lankans do.
Rule Number One: Remember your place. In this scenario, Steven. You're the underdog. And underdogs are plucky faces. You can't dominate, so you should sell that fact. Mention the unbelievable odds you're facing. Sell the fact that you're an ant, while I am a God. This is what we call, "damage limitation", it's that metaphorical cushion that catches your skull as it crashes down onto the mat after a Bite the Dust. No need for you to lose your mid card status after this loss.It was just too big a hill for you to climb, you will come back, maybe you’ll even be World Champion some day - that day won’t be until I am long long gone. Until you are certain that I am no longer a shadow looming over your chances in this federation.
Rule Two: The Blame Game. Trust me on this one, Steve. You want to avoid a prolonged procrastination on how the ref fast counted you out of the match. Or how Pantheon had the numbers and caused a distraction. Or how you were poisoned by a spiked plate of Lemon-Basil Orzotto at the Hilton the night before. Excuses don't change results. You're going to lose, so lose with dignity. I'll leave you with that if you follow the rules, Don't make me take everything from you, Steven.Don't become another ZT joke, stumbling around the graveyard of their destroyed careers wondering what the fuck happened. It takes all my concentration not to take it all away. So show some respect.
Rule Three: You don’t mention my name again. Unless in reverence. Don’t try to fight against the tide, don’t rage against the machine and try to angle for a rematch or a prolonged programme with me. It’s not going to happen, you are shit, and you haven’t proved shit yet. Own that, accept it and move on. The build to this where I didn’t even so much as mention you is the biggest rub you’re ever going to get from me. You try to come at me again without a dove and a white flag? I end it. I end it all.
Always
Be
Shooting
That’s your motto right? That’s the bullshit you tried to push on people you were better than, the crutch that you were using against people who barely knew ass from elbow in this game. So let’s see it Steve. Show me. Show me you belong.
Three time World Champion THAT’S my name.
Greatest of All Time THAT’S my name.
Now take a fucking seat Moss - you gon’ learn today.
Brofessor: AWRIGHT AWRIGHT AWIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIGHT.
Joey: Shut the fuck up.
Jeff Perkins knew better than to argue. The entire room was transfixed on every word spoken by the thick Brooklynite accent as his smile turned into a fixed line of destruction.
Joey: When I returned to the WCF, this place was a wasteland, there was nothing of worth. All I wanted to see was a spark. In truth I would have stayed away if I saw something of worth on the come up. If I saw a new influx of talent similar to that of the 14/15 elites I would have walked away completely happy that the company I love and the business I cherish is in good hands. Then I saw Bishop, then I saw you. Then I knew - you were not the future, you are not worth the legacy I spent my blood sweat and tears to build. You are not worth the World Title. I came back to have this in my possession again. Everything I predicted would happen, has happened - I won War, I won at One and now here I stand. No longer invader - but conqueror. We’ve been in a ring one time in our careers - before War you said me coming back here was a ‘Booty Call’ and that it won’t go how I like. You have it twisted. The dub called out to me because none of you were fucking it well enough - so yes, I went balls deep all in that shit and now I stand arm in arm with a happy princess and I am going to protect her with everything I have. She's full and satisfied, but soon after I see her brow furrow, I ask her why and she tells me there's this weird looking dweeb in the corner of the room who won't take his eyes off her. Some faggot in a cheap ass suit who thinks he can playact a champion, I whisper to her not to worry as we unhook arms and I walk over. Grab your nuts and rip them straight the fuck off. She laughs as I shove them into your screaming mouth and slap you across ya queer looking face. There a commotion on the other tables, the maitre d asks us to leave, so I flip that shill a quarter and tell him to go buy you some health care and that is the end of your fucking story.
How’s it feeling for you Steven? Is this good for you too? Are you still chuckling with the air of undeserved superiority? I don’t think so. I think this is about the point you throw in the towel. I think this is about the point that you understand the task that is in front of you. Don’t sweat it. Even the Spartans could only hold on so long in front of the God-King.
So, you’re a gambling man. Let me ask you plainly: do you want to bet on this match? You can bet on all the purebred stallions, all the grossly overpriced over/unders, all the prohibitive favourites you’re backing for a quick banker that you like...but do you have faith enough to bet on yourself?
Where does your confidence lie Steven? Is this a match that you actually think you can win? Is this a match where you are stepping through the ropes with the belief you can really do this? Or are you stepping through the ropes because you just happened to win a match and now you’re in so far over your head you are drowning in the expectations? You can’t win this match. I know you can’t, the fans know you can’t, the pundits know that you can’t. The most telling thing to me Steve, is you know you can’t win this match.
You live your life and your fortune on the flip of a coin, on the turn of a card. Everything I’ve ever done - I’ve earned. There is no luck involved when it comes to being the best wrestler in the world, there is no busted flush for me in this match, I drew pocket aces from the gun and you’re staring down two-eight offsuit - this is the hand our natural talent dealt. There isn’t going to be a Buster Douglas scenario for you on Sunday, you’re not going to get your own Legendary Night’s episode eulogising your career defining performance against an unstoppable champion. You’re getting that Duk-Koo Kim, Leavander Johnson treatment - a memoriam eulogising that you tried...but you got up in that ring and died.
Let’s bet on this match. I’m game, let’s add a little flavour to our contest. I’ve got a few ideas.
1) Loser has their contract immediately terminated and never appears in the WCF again under any guise.
2) The winner gets to choose the ring name for the remainder of the year. In case you are wondering: DEATHMASTER 5000 will be your name.
3) Loser has to enter a six month feud with Katherine Phoenix
Don’t make me wager the third option you rapscallion! Prove me wrong about your personality, prove me wrong about your self confidence - take the bet. Though funnily enough that would also be proving my point about you being a fake adrenalin seeking degenerate gambling addict who can’t see past the next random ‘In-Play’ Korean Volleyball match they invested the last five bucks of their paycheque in.
The fans explode in cheers, interspersed shouts of ‘GET HEEEEEEM!’ and ‘EAT HIIIIIM!’ and a rather white gentrified and refined rendition of: ‘KILL THIS NIGGA!’
Joey: How is this going to end for you Steven? This is not going to be a king making performance, this is not going to be you establishing yourself as a bonafide main eventer. This is the best wrestler in the world showcasing the gulf in class between him and everyone else. You aren’t a contender, you’re barely even a pretender at this point. There is only one thing I am wanting from this match: your subservience. You and I know both know what the ‘1’ in your loss column really means, absolutely fuck all - so I’m going to give you the ‘2’ with a fucking exclamation mark.
Who I’ve beaten.
Who is left.
The second list is growing shorter and shorter by the day. Come Sunday night I get to scratch yet another name from the dwindling supply of challenges the WCF has for me. Corey Black is having his retirement tour, I’m having a retirement tour of my own - one where I put every single one of the people with the gall to step to me straight in the fucking ground. The one thing missing from my legacy is a sustained World Title reign, I promised when I returned I would bring legitimacy back to this raped and tarnished strap and by God I’m going to do just do that. I’ve not lost a match for over a year, I’ve never been beaten in a World Title match and yet you think that you: a random guy who won a random number one contender match can do it? Please.
You’re flying far too close to the sun and your wax wings are starting to sear and drip. You are a casualty to my greatness, this match might be the most defining moment of your entire career, a match against an unstoppable great. To me? It’s just another Sunday in January.
It’s funny, the whole idea of this Pay Per View is to showcase new talent, to push people to the heights they have never reached so far. Baptism by fire. I applaud it. How ironic that this shit is called ‘Rise Up’ when you are about to get well and truly fucking buried.
Bodybags on deck faggot.
You’re finished.
The room swelled with a collective round of applause as Joey felt it necessary to bow and accept the adulation. It was like being in the heart of an electrical storm; Flash could feel the hair on the back of his arms rise and undulate; coursing with a power that flipped a switch in his mind, a red flag now flew as a columnist for the village voice, pudgy, glasses, one of those vegan bohemian types, dropped her copy of Joey’s book.
It never hit the floor.
The pages fluttered in mid air like a floundering humming bird.
Then, slowed.
The book was suspended in mid air now like an impossible magic trick. Joey’s eyes burned with a influx of light that spat sparks of cold energy into his irises like acid mixed with vinegar. Joey staggered but knew if he cried for help none would come, he was slipping out of synch with reality as the walls of perception were crumbling around him. Time and space were both suspended for the duration as a single voice spoke and cut through the silence like a serrated knife.
“Hello, Joseph. Aren’t you the happy Earth Child today?”
Hacksaw Jim Thuggin stood with his hands behind his back, he swatted aside the suspended biography as he walked towards Joey. Motioning at normal speed as the axis of the world became meaningless. Nothing mattered. No laws of psychics. No sense of gravity. All that mattered was steel toe capped footsteps on linoleum tip tapping their way forward like the morse code of the universe.
Joey: Yeah...ecstatic. You want something?
Thuggin’s eyes blinked and shedded their human facade. Two wells of ink black menace stared out at Joey who was now cornered with his back against a wall, trying to judge the nature of the intrusion. Jim looked almost melancholy. Disappointed. As if his child had misplaced the car keys.
Hacksaw Jim Thuggin: Is this your bible, Joey? Is this the truth you wish to bring to the universe? Such trivial anecdotes. You are the one, Joey. The Harbinger of a new age. A God. Yet you slum it in the gutter with the human filth. These worthless apes that applaud you, yet will never be able to conceive of your true purpose. Do you not understand what is coming here?
Joey: I was born in the gutter, Jim. I was an ape. A rat. I scurried and fought and dragged my ass all the way up. I made my name fucking worth something with my own two hands dipped in blood. These people? They’re what happens when you exist in a world where there’s already a Joey Flash, they only get to watch me succeed. Because there’s no replacing me, or superseding me. I’m everything. And they need to see that. Read about that. To remind them of that truth. That there’s no insurrection. No revolution. No rising up to usurp me. You only get to read about it, and marvel in it’s wonder. I’m the one. The one rat that escaped the gutter. After me? The door is shut. And there will never be another.
Joseph Malignaggi rose to meet the approach of extraterrestrial omnipotence; he stood a clean head above the guise of the old man and placed his index finger under the sagging chin of Jim Thuggin - pushing the Pantheon manager’s gaze to meet his.
Joey: Why did you come here Jim?
Thuggin processed his answer like a search engine mining its data banks.
Hacksaw Jim Thuggin: I wanted to affirm your mental state.
Joey: Oh?
Hacksaw Jim Thuggin: I should be feeling both dread and terror. That is what I concluded.
Joey: Good answer. What is it you called me? What is that name you gave me when you decided to take my life into your hands and do…
Flash looks around the room phantorgasmically shimmering in a perpetual state of stasis.
Joey: ...this to me.
Hacksaw Jim Thuggin: It-
Joey: The Destroyer. How...fucking…
The finger under the chin turned into a hand around the throat.
Joey: Fitting.
Flash leant over the diminutive masquerading creature and whispered into its ear.
Joey: You ever appear before me with mal intent again I will manifest that destiny in the worst way possible.
Thuggin’s husk instinctively released its bladder.
Joey: I know Jim. I know everything. I’m only going to ask one thing of you, one small tiny favour and I will give you clemency here.
The growing aura leaking from each one of Joey’s pores made Hacksaw Jim Thuggin’s cool blood nearly crystalise in his veins. In his eternal macrocosmic sojourns there has been only one other that has had this effect on him; the power, the command, the confidence, the control but most hauntingly of all...that smile. Oh that smile.
REDUCE
IT
ALL
TO
ASH
Joey: Bring me the head of David Sanchez. IT
ALL
TO
ASH
Part 3 / 3
You seem to have me mistaken. You see the blaise outer shell and you enjoy every part of me, you have laughter, you have friendship. You have a mentor, you have a leader. You have a man who is hoping to direct and mold the most impressive collection of wrestlers ever compiled under one banner. You have the man who jokes, you have the man who smiles. Yet throughout all of this...
...You seem to forget who the fuck I am.
I am not a target.
I am not a stepping stone.
I am not a meal ticket.
You forget because I raise my hand toward you in friendship.
The same hand I raise in friendship I can beat you to death with.
You’ve made friends with Joseph Malignaggi.
It’s about time you met Joey fucking Flash.
You seem to have me mistaken. You see the blaise outer shell and you enjoy every part of me, you have laughter, you have friendship. You have a mentor, you have a leader. You have a man who is hoping to direct and mold the most impressive collection of wrestlers ever compiled under one banner. You have the man who jokes, you have the man who smiles. Yet throughout all of this...
...You seem to forget who the fuck I am.
I am not a target.
I am not a stepping stone.
I am not a meal ticket.
You forget because I raise my hand toward you in friendship.
The same hand I raise in friendship I can beat you to death with.
You’ve made friends with Joseph Malignaggi.
It’s about time you met Joey fucking Flash.